5 New Graphic Novels with Indispensable Artwork

I recently geeked out over Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini’s Low, not least for its unique and idiosyncratic look. Given my complete inability to draw anything beyond a questionable stick figure, my natural tendency is to focus on writing, but Low‘s perfect union of story and artwork got me looking more closely at other recent books that blur the line between the writing and the art.
As important as an artist is to any comic book, in some, you get used to scanning over the images and going right to the dialogue. The art in the books below doesn’t just highlight or illustrate the words: it’s an essential element of storytelling. This isn’t an exhaustive list, just a few of my recent favorites, but all of them read as true collaborations between a writer and an indispensable artist.

Shutter, Vol. 1: Wanderlost, by Leila del Duca, Owen Gieni, and Joe Keatinge
Shutter, like Low, comes from Image, and takes place in an alternate world where mutants, talking animals, and sentient clocks serve as friends and antagonists to second-generation professional adventurer Kate Christopher. She’s like Indiana Jones in a world where a humanoid cat might try to blow up your apartment. Much of the book takes place in a modern city, which makes the talking critter stuff look and feel even crazier. Joe Keatinge is the writer, and artist Leila del Duca brings the world to life with incredibly detailed and kinetic pencil work, highlighted by Owen Gieni’s brilliant colors. Shutter’s wild world has to be seen to really be appreciated.

Wytches, Volume 1, by Jock and Scott Snyder
Super-creepy modern horror series Wytches, written by Scott Snyder and also from Image, tells the story of the Rook family and their daughter, Sailor. After an accident leads to the death of her bully, Sailor is pursued by dark forces, and learns that she may have been “pledged” to a powerful coven. The book has a dreamy watercolor feel that artist Jock punctuates with splotches and splashes that create the suggestion of an old, decayed book (or a rotted film strip).

Afterlife with Archie: Escape from Riverdale, by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and Francesco Francavilla
Archie Comics has long been known for a distinctive, kid-friendly house style, a cartoony look that pairs perfectly with the generally lighthearted adventures of Archie, Jughead, and the gang, but the company has taken no half-measures in expanding its range recently, and the new, more mature-reader oriented, books have adopted art styles to match. Afterlife with Archie and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (both written by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa) have artists with unique styles, and each owes a huge portion of its success to the visual style. Francisco Francavilla’s heavy, high-contrast work looks like a nightmare version of a Saturday morning cartoon, which is probably not a bad description of Afterlife’s premise: Archie gang facing a bloody zombie apocalypse would be a much tougher sell if the art didn’t sell it. Chilling Adventures, which makes Sabrina’s family less of a cute/funny coven of witches and more of a “horror movie” coven of witches, has a very different style, but it works similarly well: the heavy pencils and faded charcoal-like look make it look like a creepy old book that you’ve stumbled upon.

Bucky Barnes: The Winter Soldier Volume 1: The Man on the Wall, by Ales Kot and Marco Rudy
Horror and sci-fi lend themselves particularly well to imaginative art, but mainstream superhero comics occasionally step up too. Marvel’s Bucky Barnes: The Winter Soldier is a surprising art piece, especially given Bucky’s roots in the spy-comics genre. This new series has Bucky as an outer-space assassin who manages to fall in love with his prey while being hunted by his future self. Written by Ales Kot with art primarily by Marco Rudy, it’s got a completely psychedelic atmosphere in the tradition of Jim Steranko’s work on Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the ’60s, but with a brushstroke-heavy look inspired by oils. Even moreso than the other books, the look in Bucky can be challenging: it doesn’t follow traditional rhythms or panel structures. I found it off-putting at first, actively grumbling that I wasn’t sure what was going on at points—that’s probably why so many mainstream comics stick to more approachable styles—but then it clicked, and I began to appreciate it for the risks it was taking as well as its aesthetic merits.
Which recent book has your favorite art?